Or so I thought.
Ribbons of emerald-green energies, licking the air like great tongues of fire, suddenly emerged from the stumps of the Warboss's former limbs, forming constructs of psychic energy, the true nature of which I recognized with [Warp Shaping] and [Concept Shaping]. The burst of energies then began condensing and solidifying, until they formed gargantuan limbs of viridian fire. The Warboss looked confused for a moment as he examined his new limbs, stretching and flexing each one, fingers extending and crunching. And then, slowly, the gargantuan Ork began to laugh. It started with a low rumble, which then became a deafening cacophony as green flames erupted from his eyes and mouth, a fountain of psychic energies building up within the filthy xenos.
Power in its rawest form formed a veil around the Warboss. And its armor cracked and fell apart as it slowly grew larger and larger before my eyes, its muscles bulging. My eyes narrowed as the Warboss turned to face me. Our gazes locked. "You'z been a good foit, 'umie, but now, da Godz, Gork an' Mork 'ave chosen me ter kick yer teef in! WAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
The ground shook, great cracks and fissures spread wherever the Warboss stepped, vivid streaks of green light emerging from them. Gork and Mork... the primal gods of the Orks. I knew and recognized their names immediately, simply because I'd been an Ork once and every single one of these green-skinned aliens knew their gods by heart, deep in their blood, in every cell in their hideous bodies. There was no doubt, in their mind, that Gork and Mork were their gods – violent, brutish, and cunning all at once. And now, those very same gods, how almost never interfered with the affairs of their children, were rearing their very large and very ugly heads at me.
I felt them, too, each one bearing a presence so extremely overwhelming that it felt as though I was floating before an entire world. Gork and Mork were primal gods and to not recognize them as such was... folly – as bitter as the admission tasted upon my tongue. The power they commanded meant that, if they truly wished, they could make the galaxy tremble. And now, a tiny fragment of that power was embedded in the soul of the Warboss, empowering him to levels far beyond what Orks should be capable of, a level of power that I was pretty sure I couldn't match – not as I was now.
This wasn't a foe I could simply physically overpower with my [Eldritch Form] and, even then, chances were dicey, because that form of mine was best against fleshy, soft foes, whereas I was pretty certain that the Warboss was now far more than just a simple physical enemy. I wouldn't be shocked if I tore his head off and a new one sprouted from the stump, a head of green fire and energy.
However, this definitely wasn't the first time I've had to fight a far superior foe. After all, I fought Athulhum to something of a standstill. Certainly, I'd fought with the God Emperor at the time, but the Maiar spirit had been far above me in terms of power and magnitude. How did I win?
I attacked that which lay beyond the physical world, the very concepts that governed the existence of my enemy. To do that, however, I'd have to get uncomfortably close. Extending a simple tendril wouldn't be enough, either. Concepts were much harder to deal with than just willing forth items from my [Inventory]. I'd have to reach in and touch the Warboss's very soul and hope I can separate him from Gork and Mork long enough for him to just keel over and die. It was either that or I overpowered him somehow. Ultimately, the Warboss was just a physical vessel for the true power that was granted to him by his gods. The destruction of the vessel meant the power would dissipate – victory.
Was I powerful enough, as I was now, to do that? I honestly wasn't sure. My problem with the first solution was that I was nowhere near skilled-enough with [Concept Shaping] to do to the Warboss what I'd blundered into with Athulhum, something that only ended well because the God Emperor was there to help and guide me. And, ultimately, I may have laid the foundations for Athulhum's defeat, with [Concept Shaping], but it was the God Emperor who convinced the fallen cosmic entity to forgive himself for his past mistakes, for his sins against life, for falling into darkness.
Now, I was alone. And I had to deal with this monster on my own, while the Kharsons kept all the lesser Orks away from joining in on the fun. They were doing a really good job of that, I noticed, catching their blurry forms cutting down the approaching Ork hordes as though the Greenskins hardly mattered. Still, I knew they'd tire and exhaust themselves eventually, especially without Power Armor to ease their movements. I had to finish this duel quickly.
First and foremost, however, I was gonna try overpowering the Warboss through physical means. After all, I needed him somewhat restrained if I was gonna pull off [Concept Shaping]. The ability itself was extremely potent, but the fact that it required so much concentration on my part meant that it was also easily countered. A stray plasma bolt could distract me enough for the ability to fail completely – or any number of random possibilities, honestly. The point was that I needed the Warboss to sit still, which was going to be very difficult, since the accursed xenos was still growing in strength, power, and stature, easily gaining another two meters in height.
No matter. "In the name of the God Emperor, I shall smite you into ruin, foul beast."
The Warboss cackled with laughter, his voice causing the very ground beneath us to shake. Idly, I noted that right beneath us was the Underhive, which was also filled with Orks. Marvelous.
I willed away both of my weapons, breathing in. The Vaultsword, as miraculous a weapon it might've been, would not win me this fight. Mjolnir was the same. It certainly was the most destructive, capable of incredible collateral damage, but neither was it the most powerful weapon in my arsenal. No, that honor belonged to the [Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist], which I was now capable of using outside of a standard human form, as Lord Khars learned firsthand.
Without another word, I rushed forward, my every step breaking the ground at my feet as I doubled the density of my muscles and bones – an attribute that would've otherwise hindered my movements if I was trying to move as fast as possible, seeing as it effectively doubled my weight and Custodes physiology was dense and heavy enough even when shrunk down to the size of a human, being almost as heavy as an Astartes without Power Armor. Doubling that weight came with plenty of drawbacks. Not ideal for long range movement. It was ideal, however, for the simple generation and expenditure of power – raw power.
The Warboss seemed to understand my intent as he rushed right at me as well. No weapons between either of us, just good old fashioned fist fight to the death – was probably what the Warboss thought would happen and, truth be told, the idea of doing such a thing did sound rather fun. A flaming, emerald green fist came flying at my face, the whole appendage now larger than my torso. I planted my feet on the ground and stepped into the basic stance of the [Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist], just milliseconds before the Warboss's fist connected. I reached up and caught the punch, which rattled my bones and organs. That I was able to catch it at all meant that it functioned much like a physical appendage, despite its spiritual nature, which meant it was subject to most of the same laws.
That said, the amount of kinetic energy I absorbed was extreme, enough to punch through adamantium and crush ceramite with ease. Redirecting the energy through my body liquefied more than a few of my internal organs. Though, rebuilding them was easy enough. My technique, I realized, was far from the peak of this martial art. And so, I resolved to master it and reach its zenith.
For now, however, I had to win.
I pushed away the fist, pivoting all the while. All the kinetic energy I'd absorbed was gathered into my right fist as I then used [Muscle Burst] to double the stored power, before I sent a counter attack right into the Warboss's exposed chest. The blow sent him reeling and staggering back, blood erupting from his nose and mouth. I felt his bones rattle and flesh give way. But the damage was a minor annoyance, at best. That was I did not stop and wait. As the Warboss lurched back, I surged forward, activating both [Possessing Spirit] and [Muscle Burst] to move far faster than I otherwise would've been able to, before delivering another blow into his chin. It wasn't anywhere near as powerful a blow as the one before, however, but the force I'd delivered was enough to rattle the Warboss's brain inside his skull, causing him to drop to a single knee.
For a moment there, I'd felt the roaring power that'd possessed the Warboss when I caught his fist. This definitely wasn't simply a physical foe. Before the massive Ork could even recover, I moved again, throwing yet another fist. This time, I punched his flaming right eye. The Warboss pulled his head back and roared, unleashing an explosion of green fire that sent me hurling backwards. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
Scowling, I willed forth a horde of tendrils from my back, which I then shot at the Warboss, each of them puncturing his skin and muscles, due to a lack of armor. I then used [Muscle Burst] on every single one of the hundreds of tendrils, pulling myself forward through the Warboss's roar. The green flames burned my skin, but the energies were too wild and too unfocused that I was certain that its main purpose was not to hurt, but to empower. Through the Kharsons, I realized that every single Ork within the final bastion suddenly grew stronger and faster, their eyes ablaze with green fire.
By the Emperor...
I gritted my teeth and willed forth about half of my body to transform into my [Eldritch Form], wrapping hundreds and hundreds of tendrils around the Warboss's body, before I stabbed each and every single one of them into his muscles and wrapping around his massive bones. The Warboss's roar turned into a pained scream as he struggled and writhed, pulling out chunks of tendrils and tossing them away. The green flames also burned quite a bit of my Biomass. But I had enough to do what needed to be done. Roaring, I summoned more and more tendrils, each one piercing into the Warboss's body and wrapping around muscle and bone. The green flames necessitated the constant expenditure of Biomass to replenish what I was losing at a rapid rate.
"In the name of the God Emperor, I shall smite you." I whispered as I reached out and placed both hands on the Warboss's head, where I then used [Concept Shaping] to look into the very shape of his soul and even further beyond that, into the very bedrock of his being. And there I saw... it. I had no idea what it was, but it was there, a concept I'd not thought to see.
Orks were artificial. The very framework of the soul of the Warboss reminded me too much of machines – the straight lines and cogs and wheels, the inability to evolve beyond a certain limitation. Something created them, designed them to be as they were now. The Orks were... little more than machines of flesh – for their spirit was untrue. Certainly, their design made it so that a great deal of individuality arose from them, but all their instincts, all their wants and needs, were unbreakable, much like a machine.
And even further beyond lay only their twin gods, Gork and Mork, and nothing else.
AN: Chapter 65 is out on (Pat)reon!
